“Come on, Mercy! Be merciful! My class starts in ten minutes!” cried Cindy. She had been yelling for ten minutes and still no reply. Finally Cindy picked the lock and opened the door. Seeing the note on the wall and the bloody trail to the window, she cussed quietly, angrily scraping her sharp nails across the wall. Forcing her wings to rip through her back, she flung herself out of the open window.
“I’ve got to find that immature little…little…gah!” she muttered as she tried to find the trail left by her ward.
***
“I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am, and I know you want Dr. Grey, but you have to believe me when I say that this is his day off and he won’t be in for at least another half an hour. Please, just have a seat. Do you want some coffee? We have other magazines behind the counter if you want other ones.”
“Roy, I’m here.” Will walked in, large bags underneath his eyes. Roy practically fell over his own feet running towards him. His voice was desperate when he whispered “Thank. God.” Into Will’s ear as he shook his hand vigorously. Roy only shook your hand when he was upset or knew you were upset, so Will knew it had to be bad.
Stepping aside, Roy revealed a young woman of her early twenties, who looked extremely frustrated and impatient. He walked up to her and she straightened out, rubbing her thighs quickly and taking deep breaths. She was obviously dealing with grief. Not dealing well, but dealing.
In a cheerful voice, Will introduced himself and invited her into his office, which was really his boss's office, but who had to know that? He let her go before him and turned, mouthing ‘you owe me’ to Roy in with a humor-filled smile. He closed the door behind him, and she went to the couch to take a seat. Will went to his chair and sat, blinking the remnants of sleep from his eyes before turning to the lady and asking, “I’ve been informed that you asked for me personally. Might I ask why, Miss…” he trailed off.
“Jackson. Cornelia Jackson. I asked for you, Grey, because I heard that you have an interesting hobby that may pertain to my husband’s death. Vampires.” She smiled, blue eyes sparkling.
The disappearance of anxiety and the new bluntness in her voice had startled him. And plus, how could she know about his hobbies? He wasn’t a meddling man, and only had a few, some of which were well known by people at work, but a couple he kept away from society, embarrassed by instinctual magnetism to the subjects…
“Well, then. Umm. Why… why is it you think… Are you saying you think vampires killed your husband? Ma’am, you must know that they don’t exist. ” he’d never had someone like this before. Well, truthfully, he’d never had a real patient before…
“Don’t be stupid, Grey. I know that they killed him. And they do exist. You know they do as well as I know, and I only know you know because I know people who know what others tend to not know. So now, will you help me, or not?” She had stood up and was standing in front of him, leaning over his head in an intimidating gesture.
“Umm. I… I’m a psychiatrist, Cornelia. May I call you Cornelia? I’m a psychiatrist, not a private investigator. And your husband… I mean, I don’t know how he died, but… I’m sorry, ma’am, I cannot help you if you are looking for a… vampire hunter. If you still want my assistance, I can certainly help. How have you been handling Mr. Jackson’s death? Do you feel angry? Or are you—“
“William, you will help. In the end, you won’t be able to resist the opportunity of actually seeing one.” Her dark eyes were wide. “I’ve seen them. Don’t you want to know what they look like? Don’t you want to know how wide their wingspread is? Don’t you? You have to want it, Grey. You wouldn’t have been studying them your whole life and not want to know. I am giving you the chance of a lifetime. I know where a few live, here in this very city. I know their names, William. Don’t you want to know their names?” she had taken his hand in her own and had pulled him up. She had smugness and mischief in her eyes.
He was staring at her in shock. True, he had been studying them since he was a young boy. His parents and teachers had called it a “silly obsession”, and he had hidden it from the world to escape the teasing from his classmates. The habit had stuck. So how…?
“They have… wings?” at those words, Cornelia’s mouth broke into a big smile, and she said,
“Yes. Huge. Mostly black, but some are brown and even tan, differing on the personality. The purer the heart the lighter the wings. Some just can’t help the darkness, depending on their maker’s wing color.
“You know, they had to bury my husband only two days after he died because he would’ve crumbled otherwise? What would the doctors have thought if they just found a pile of metal shards where his body was before? He was a construction worker. The stake through his heart was metal, and they just assumed he was human and had ‘fallen on a broken bar’. He wasn’t. Human, that is.
“He died on 5th Avenue. I’m going down there tonight. They say the killer always comes back to the scene of the crime, and it hasn’t yet, so tonight might be the night, you know? You wanna come? That’s what I thought. Meet me at the coffee shop on the corner at eight.” Cornelia smiled a pleased, confident smile before strutting out the door, leaving him standing bewildered, a million and one questions left unasked on his tongue.
***
Mercy flew high, as high as the clouds, as not to let anyone see her; a “young” girl, with pitch black wings, soaring over the city in her pajamas.
It hurts, as she so often rediscovered, dying. Every time she “changed”, she relived her death, if that’s possible, seeing her life over and over and not being able to focus on anything but that.
Daniel had once told her that dying was peaceful- it most certainly is not. It is, however, true that your whole life flashes before your eyes, every detail, every sin, every good deed, every joy, everything you ever did, saw, or knew, right there. That tall, tidy, wavy haired, absurdly handsome liar.
Mercy’s wings faltered as the swarm of memories once again clouded her mind, making it hard to concentrate on what she was doing. It was no surprise that so many vampires had to be eliminated for going mad.
Bloody tears fell from her eyes at every blink. She had to find Daniel. That thought went through her mind every time she changed. She laughed at herself, and jumped when the overly beautiful voice met her now sensitive ears. She had been searching for Daniel ever since she found she had to feed. She doubted she would ever find him, and even if she did, what would she say? Oh, hello Daniel, can you help me go against my very nature just because I am softhearted and don’t want to kill innocent people? Yeah, right.
Mercy looked down on all the people of the city. Her city. Being a relatively weak vampire, she didn’t find a large, bustling city, but a small town. She scoffed. Most vampires had two or three cities to themselves, and, although she could never find them, she always could sense the presence of one or two others feeding in her territory. She didn’t mind, though, because the humans didn’t mind.
She flew all day, struggling with herself not to just fly down and snatch that juicy fat one or this tender young one. She had to find one that wouldn’t be missed, one completely alone, one ready to die.
Nightfall came, and she was burning from the sun on her back for hours and the need for the sweet, warm flow of human blood. She tried to focus on staying in the air, pushing her large, powerful wings down, then up, down again, up again.
Her hunger overcame her self control, and she pulled in her wings, mostly against her will, and her predator’s eyes searched for easy prey. Her eyes moved to an old man, stumbling home from the bar. Damn. Alcohol meant sour blood; sour blood meant more hunger, sooner.
The world slowed, her vision not only on her prey, but everything, any threats, any advantages, all escape routes. Her ears took in every sound; her mind was racing in the thrill of the hunt. Somewhere, deep inside her, she still remembered that she was a respectable woman. Somewhere. Right now, all she was thinking about was it. Her prey. She smiled. Soon, she would taste his blood; taste the thick, sour, sustenance that kept her sane.
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